


and hope someone will save me this time

by chandrila



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergent, F/M, Slow Burn, Smuggler Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 18:04:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chandrila/pseuds/chandrila
Summary: “I’ll need a copilot.” His words are short, matter of fact, “To get her off this rock.”Rey’s brow furrows in confusion, “Are you offering me a job?”“Temporarily.” He replies. He doesn’t meet her eye, “Until I can recruit another.”“Mr Solo I can’t I...”“Ben.” He turns to her then, something soft in his voice, “Call me Ben.”Her mind is racing through the reasons to say no. She has her job here, Gredo will pick the new wrecks, unearthed by the ever shifting sands, clean before she even gets a look in and what about her parents? But he heart is racing on it’s own accord, thumping loud in her ears and threatening to drown out those thoughts.





	and hope someone will save me this time

Rey barely notices the heat anymore. Sweat beads on her hairline as she works, the tiny droplets sliding down past her ears and soaking into the scarf hung loosely around her neck. It doesn’t take long to evaporate.

She considers the compressor in her hands, turning it over slowly. For all the obvious grime, there is more oil and grit trapped inside the mechanisms. She sighs, returning it to her pile. She picks up her canteen and draws her scarf up around her head.

She’s at the pump when she sees him. Strangers are not uncommon on Jakku but something draws her to this one. He’s striding towards the trading post, his ship parked not too far away. It’s nice, new, if a bit small.

The man himself is tall. Older than her but not old. He’s pale like a lot of off worlders with a heavy brown jacket entirely unsuited to Jakku’s conditions. A first timer, Rey supposes, here for business.

She should get back to work, Plutt only pays per piece and she’s barely gotten three clean this morning, but she doesn’t. Instead she skirts the edge of the camp, ducking around the bantha watering themselves to follow the mans movements. He strides straight up to Plutt’s station. It seems he’s not here for the scenery Rey smiles to herself. She moves closer.

“I’m looking for a ship,” The man’s voice is deep and perfunctory, “I have my own ship as barter if you have what I’m looking for.”  
“My good man,” Plutt booms, “I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. We’ve got some fine ships here. Real quality. They don’t make them like this anymore.”  
“Alright,” The mans face is serious, unreadable.  
“Alright then, I’ll have my girl show you some of the beauties.”  
Rey grits her teeth at ‘my girl’ but comes when she’s called. This is easy work and she needs the portions.  
“Rey, you show Mr...”  
“Solo.”  
“You show Mr Solo the fine ships we have in the east yard.”

Rey knows the drill. The ships in the east yard are junkers, but they always start there with buyers. More often than not they can get a sale without having to show any of their decent stock. Off worlders are drawn to the junkyards of Jakku by the promise of vintage but rarely have the expertise to know the difference between a classic and a wreck.

Rey eyes Solo through the slit in her head wrap as they make their way from the outpost. He’s got an arm up, shielding his eyes from the glare and sprays of sand. He hasn’t even bothered to dress appropriately. A rich kid playing at rogue, she decides. This is going to be easy.

Sure enough, he ignores her suggestions of the slightly less terrible pieces of junk and points out a positively ancient Corellian light freighter. It would have been considered a luxury vessel once upon a time but it’s been gathering dust for decades. It isn’t even original, but modified haphazardly from the YT-1300 specifications.

“Good choice Mr Solo,” She tries to sound convincing.

Rey can’t help but cringe behind Mr Solo’s back as they board, but he doesn’t seem to notice the loud creaks and shudders of the faulty ramp. Or else he doesn’t seem to care. He takes a cursory glance around the hold and runs his long fingers through his thick black hair. Tiny partials of sand are shaken free and Rey finds herself mesmerised. She feels her cheeks flush with warmth and gives herself a moment before pulling down her head wrap. She chides herself for her impressionability. Sure, there weren’t a lot of suitable men on Jakku, but that didn’t mean she had to lose her head the first time a vaguely attractive off-worlder shows up. Even if he is a bit more than vaguely attractive.

He strides through the ship with purpose, inspecting the cockpit then making his way out to the passage that houses the engine compartment. Rey finds herself hurrying behind him, beginning to think she may have had him pegged all wrong. He knows his way around a ship. He pulls up the grate to the engine compartment and crouches down to inspect it’s contents. She hadn’t been planning on showing him this particular addition.

“Plutt’s made a few modifications,” Rey supplies. Not the ones’s she would have made if she had any say in it. “Made the handling nice and smooth.”

“I can see that,” He looks up at her then, his dark eyes boring into her almond ones. “What do you think of these... modifications. Tell me truthfully, you’re sale’s already made.”  
She considers for a moment. The sale’s not made until the paperwork’s signed. This is not the time to start badmouthing the ship.

“Completely useless,” She finds the words slip out of her mouth before she can stop them. The ghost of a smile plays across Mr Solo’s face. “It’ll only slow you down and damage her manoeuvrability.” She continues, “Best to rip it out completely.”

He stands abruptly closing the hatch with a bang and looking away from her. She kicks herself for her honesty, Plutt will have her head if he leaves without a sale. When he speaks it’s the last thing she expects.

“I’ll need a copilot.” His words are short, matter of fact, “To get her off this rock.”  
Rey’s brow furrows in confusion, “Are you offering me a job?”  
“Temporarily.” He replies. He doesn’t meet her eye, “Until I can recruit another.”  
“Mr Solo I can’t I...”  
“Ben.” He turns to her then, something soft in his voice, “Call me Ben.”

Her mind is racing through the reasons to say no. She has her job here, Gredo will pick the new wrecks, unearthed by the ever shifting sands, clean before she even gets a look in and what about her parents? But he heart is racing on it’s own accord, thumping loud in her ears and threatening to drown out those thoughts.

He looks at her carefully, “I imagine it’ll be a week, two weeks maybe for the return trip and I can pay a good deal more than you get here in two weeks. I need someone with sense and there isn’t anyone else here that seems to have half the instincts you do.” This time she doesn’t have the scarf to hide her reddening cheeks. She hopes he hasn’t noticed.  
“Alright,” She hears herself saying, she reaches out her hand, “Two weeks.”  
She tries to ignore the spark that shoots through her as they shake.

They pull apart to the sound of shouting in the distance, echoing up the ramp.  
“Glad that’s decided then,” He turns towards the cockpit and calls over his shoulder, “Rip that nonsense out and meet me in the cockpit. I think I’ve just about overstayed my welcome.”


End file.
